


Unlike Any Other

by jturner36



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:19:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3740587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jturner36/pseuds/jturner36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek's departure from New York, his memories of Addison and Mark, and his first night with Meredith</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unlike Any Other, Part 1 of 2

**Author's Note:**

> Heartfelt thanks to betas Cat_Collector, HotButteredRum, and sweetnarcosis, and to indigo blue for assistance.
> 
> Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. References to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Cuckold. Noun: the husband of an unfaithful wife._

He wasn't sure where the word came from; it buzzed through his brain like a seizure. He wasn't even sure how he knew the word. His lit classes were so long ago.

But he was sure they weren't Derek and Addison anymore.

He left his house and drove to his office, holding back bile. Holding back tears. Thank God for parking garages. The cleaning crew in the lobby paid him no mind. The trip through the revolving doors was familiar, as were the twenty-nine steps to the elevator. His finger robotically pressed "up," then readied itself to press "4." The doors opened, closed, opened, and there were fourteen more steps. The plaque on the door was shiny - black letters on gold: "Derek C. Shepherd, M.D., F.A.C.S. Neurosurgery."

As he emptied his desk, it struck him how little of himself he had there. One picture of Addison (trash), his laptop (powered on, backed up), a spare toothbrush (trashed as well), and some notes on a study he'd intended to publish (bundled up and clipped together). His expensive office, with sparkling windows, a spectacular view, and a comfortable leather couch was stripped quickly.

His practice was successful, and he'd had many interested bidders throughout the years. It would sell easily. He loved the age of the Internet. So easy. Username, password, log in.

_Sheri,_

_I've had a family emergency. I'll call you from the road. Cancel all appointments for the rest of the week, refer to Dr. Jacob Bernstein. Tell Rebecca, Ida and James that I'm sorry. Payroll will continue for two more months. I'm so sorry._

_Derek_

Laptop powered down. 

The walk from his practice to the hospital was so habitual that he could get there by muscle memory alone. There was always a hum, a vibrancy in the hospital that he loved. No matter what the hour, people were there. You weren't alone. He nodded briefly to the receptionist and took yet another elevator to another floor and another door. The lock had always stuck. He had been meaning to talk to someone about it. But he had learned to overcome it.

He could overcome this.

Laptop out, on again. Username, password, log in.

The surgical schedule was posted online. It was a nice change that had been made at Addison's suggestion. She was the smartest of them all. No matter what, no matter where, she always was. So smart. Thanks to her, he could see that she had a scheduled surgery at 7 a.m. She wouldn't cancel. No matter how upset she was, she wouldn't cancel. She was the consummate professional.

_The woman he loved, the man he would have died for, were so integral to his life that he couldn't imagine they could betray him this way. Mark, his childhood friend. Mark with the perfect face and the brazen manner. Who was the first of the two to sprout chin hair. And chest hair. And pubic hair. The star running back who taunted and ridiculed Derek, the skinny, pimply band geek. The guy he nonetheless called his best friend. Mark, who years later was bewildered when he realized that Derek outpaced and outclassed him in nearly every area of life. Especially when the pretty girl looked past him and noticed Derek._

Derek squinted through tears. Click, click, click. Cancel, reschedule, reassign to a different surgeon, done. He was so very unprofessional.

With the laptop powered down, he closed the door behind him and left it unlocked.

Derek mentally clicked through his options. His preference would be to stay at the Park Hyatt Stanhope, but there would never be a room available at this late hour. He didn't want to stay in his office, because it would be the first place she would come looking before surgery. Where to stay, where to sleep, where to mourn?

Cataloged pieces of conversations drifted through his mind, random scenes from his life zoomed past him.

_Derek was dazzled by Addison. He'd spotted her during their first week of med school. To be honest, many men had spotted Addison. It was hard to miss her. She was tall and slender, with a shapely body and sparkling blue eyes. He made his first attempt to meet her in the cafeteria a few weeks after classes had begun. There were no empty tables, and as he looked around for a place to sit, he saw her eating alone with her nose in a textbook. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the table and smiled._

_"Mind if I sit here?" he asked._

_"No," she answered, never taking her eyes off the text._

_He sat diagonally across from her, nodded, and wracked his brain for something witty to say that wouldn't make him sound like a dork. His eyes settled on her book._

_"Clinical Anatomy, hmm?" was what he came up with._

_He was mortified when she glanced up, gave him the once over, and went back to reading. Derek ate quickly, and left without saying another word._

_Three weeks later on a sunny day, sitting outside on a bench reading a newspaper, a sudden shadow made him look up. There she was standing two feet away from him with a quizzical look on her face._

_"Clinical Anatomy guy, right?" she asked with a slightly crooked smirk._

_He laughed. "Right," he answered, smiling back at her._

He ended up sitting in his car in a catatonic state, his chest so constricted with grief and panic and terror that he had to concentrate on breathing. Derek hadn't felt this way since September 11th. Since all of those people had been brought through the hospital, one after the other until every member of the staff thought the world must have come to an end. So he sat, staring ahead at the concrete wall as the night turned from black to blue to orange, then peach as the sun came up.

Places, feelings, and things that he hadn't thought about for years bombarded him.

_"So, you have sex with her yet?"_

_Derek glared at Mark, disgusted, and refused to answer him._

_"What the fuck are you waiting for, Bro? An engraved invitation?"_

_"Knock it off, Mark," he snarled. "I will not discuss this - her - with you."_

_Mark pretended to be hurt. "Since when?"_

_"Since now. She's…she's not…I don't want to.... She's…"_

_"You're afraid she'll turn you down, aren't you? You're an idiot, Derek. All's I'm sayin' is, if you don't have sex with her soon, I will."_

_"Shut the fuck up, will you?"_

Shut the fuck up.

At 6 a.m., right around the time he knew she would be arriving for work, he started the car and drove to his house for the last time. He parked, got out, and looked up. The windows were dark and empty. Past the sidewalk, climbing the stairs, he spotted a lone button on the top step. He recognized that it was from a sweater he'd given Addison two Christmases ago, torn away and left behind, a victim of his rage from the prior evening. Bending over, he picked it up and rubbed his thumb over it. How could she have done this to him?

_They quickly became friends; they were inseparable - eating and studying together, riding the subway, sharing thoughts, and even sometimes, dreams. And yet, while Addison appeared to be content with the "just friends" part of their friendship, Derek wanted more. He tried hard not to show it yet, but he was falling in love with her._

_One wintry weekend, after a late night of studying under her thick down comforter, when they had quizzed each other and laughed about everything and nothing, Addison put her book down, curled up near to him and fell asleep. Derek watched her for the longest time until he couldn't watch any longer._

_He leaned over and kissed her gently, just enough to make her stir, then kissed her again._

_She awoke, puzzled and slightly disoriented. "Derek?"_

_His eyes were dark blue, guileless. "Addie," he whispered, stroking her face with his thumb, "I just...really want to make love to you."_

_Addison reached for him, smiling_.

It took Derek less than two hours to stuff three suitcases full of his important things. The rest, he'd send for later. He wondered idly if they had a service for this, people who made a living picking through a broken home, taking one person's possessions while the other watched from the sidelines.

Without looking back, he got in his car and drove.

New York, New Jersey.

_He waited outside of Columbia University Medical Center, nervous and animated. She came out through the revolving door looking tired, but as striking as ever, even after her long day._

_"Addison, over here!" he called._

_"Hey, how was your surgery this afternoon, Dr. Shepherd?" she asked when she reached his side._

_"Good, it was really good," Derek responded, scooping her up with a hug and long kiss. "The patient came through surgery quite well, and we're just waiting for the follow-up MRI tomorrow. I actually did most of the cutting, and Dr. Jenoah said she was very impressed," he boasted happily._

_"That's great," she said, beaming at him. She loved him when he was like this - his eyes sparkling, bright white smile, buoyant and ever so slightly full of himself._

_"And your day, Dr. Montgomery?"_

_"It was great. I successfully delivered the Hudson triplets, and they're doing well, despite the meconium. Two of them didn't even need surfactant, which was a surprise."_

_"It sounds like you were the star today, as usual." Derek's face was joyful. He loved her when she was like this - smiling confidently, her hair spilling over her shoulders, her face serene and satisfied._

_Addison put on her sunglasses and pressed him for details about their date. "Where are we going? Why did you tell me to wear comfortable shoes? What's the big secret?"_

_"No big secret. I just figured we'd take the C down to Central Park and walk around a while since it's so nice out. Maybe watch the seals at the zoo," he suggested._

_"You have got to be kidding." Addison grumbled, but she took his outstretched hand nonetheless. "You are the only man I have ever met who wants to watch the fake wildlife at the Central Park Zoo after 36 hours on call instead of going home, taking a nice hot bath, and sleeping like a civilized person."_

_"Aw, c'mon," he countered. "I figure we can watch the seals having fun, then we'll go have some fun." They strolled hand-in-hand down the subway station stairs, relaxed and happy._

Pennsylvania, Ohio.

_The zoo wasn't crowded, but they'd just missed feeding time, which he'd always liked. They watched the seals swim and play for a while, then Derek had another suggestion. "Addie, why don't we walk a little more, grab something to eat, and then we'll take a cab back uptown?"_

_Addison was agreeable. "Sounds good."_

_Derek took her hand and began walking out of the park. They passed vendors, children, elderly couples sitting on benches, but he saw none of them. He became single-mindedly focused on walking down Fifth Avenue._

_She turned to him and asked, "What do you want to eat?"_

_"It doesn't really matter," he mumbled. Derek unwittingly picked up his pace, looking up at storefronts nervously._

_"Whoa, Derek, slow down!" Addison protested. "What's your rush?"_

_"Sorry, sorry Addie." He swallowed thickly and then stopped on the sidewalk abruptly._

_He looked around quickly, aware that they were blocking the sidewalk, but he didn't care. He took a deep breath and smiled at her._

_Addison knit her brow, confused at his behavior. "Derek, what?" she asked, and then she looked at the building they were in front of and gasped._

_Tiffany & Company._

_Derek took her hands in his and got down on one knee. "Addison Forbes Montgomery, I love you. Will you marry me?"_

_Addison's eyes flew open. "Oh, my god. Derek - oh, my god, you can't - you can't possibly afford...."_

_People around them smiled, catcalled, and applauded as they walked by. Derek smiled up at her. "I can, Addison, I - I've been saving and...Addison, please. Come inside with me. Say yes," he whispered. "Say yes and come inside."_

_"Yes," she breathed, crying. "Yes, yes, yes."_

Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin.

How had he missed it?

_She used to love it when he went down on her. She would plead and protest and cajole as he flitted from here to there; he was the master of the slow tease. Addison's hips would squirm; she'd clamp her thighs around his head, striving in vain to push herself even deeper into his mouth. Eventually, when he'd had his fill of pleasuring her, he would let her finish, would murmur his encouragement against her, and hold her hips, her bottom in his hands, gently breaking her fall while she crashed, crashed. Afterward, in his arms, after they made love, she would joke with him, boosting up his ego, commenting that neurosurgery surely wasn't his true specialty._

_Then one day he woke up and realized that it had just stopped._

His best friend in the world - the man he called his brother. Addison, his wife.

_"You're late! Every night, it's the same damned thing!"_

_"Don't nag me!" He raised his voice, walking away from her. "I'm just...I'm busy working. You wanted nice things; you wanted us to be successful."_

_"I already had money, I already had nice things. I wanted a successful marriage, Derek. Not this. Not this."_

Minnesota, South Dakota.

_"Addison," he whispered as he kissed up her inner thigh. "Please let me...."_

_She pushed him away. "Stubble. Just…go shave, Derek."_

His cell phone buzzed at least once an hour during the day, less frequently at night. She called, his mom called, Nancy, even Kathleen. He refused to talk to anyone, and erased all of his voicemail without listening to any messages. What could she possibly have to say to him now?

_"That was Kathleen," Derek shared after hanging up the phone._

_"What's up?" Addison asked as she slipped her shoes off her feet._

_"It's good news," he continued, unknotting his tie. "She's pregnant, due in October."_

_Addison looked at him and grinned. "That's great news. How's she feeling?"_

_"Nauseous, tired. She sounds really happy." Derek waited for a moment, and then with more than a hint of longing in his eyes, he ventured gingerly into her well-equipped minefield. "Addie, I -"_

_She interrupted him, looking away abruptly, putting her hand up. "I don't want to talk about it, Derek."_

_Distraught, he ignored her warning. "We don't have to...it's...I don't want a timeline, you know that, I just...Addison."_

_Her expression was cold, unyielding. "What part of 'I don't want to talk about it' do you not understand?"_

Wyoming, Montana, Idaho.

Derek picked up his phone, scrolled through his contact list, pushed the "send" button and waited. "Richard? It's Derek. I need to talk to you, it's...call me. I want a change, I need to just...get out of New York, get...get away from - from everything. We always talked, you and I, about me coming out, working with you again and I'm actually on my way there now. I'm...I decided to drive; I'm driving there now. So call me."

_Cuckold. Verb: to make a cuckold of a husband._

In his wakeful hours on lonely stretches of road, and during his fitful sleep in no-name motels, his mind mercilessly replayed the scene of infidelity he'd witnessed. It was unrelenting. On her back, legs spread, breasts bouncing violently, screaming his name.

_When had this started?_

_Screaming Mark's name._

_"I don't like you flirting with him."_

_"Him?"_

_"Him. Mark," he snapped. "Stop it."_

_"Oh, for God's sake, Derek, it's just Mark."_

Mark the snake.

Washington.

_Screaming. Fuck me, fuck me harder! Mark, fuck me…oh god…._

That was not Addison. Addie, who was a lady, who was refined and lovely and sweet and his. Who held him gently and moaned, "Derek...Derek" when she came.

Oh, god.

Seattle.


	2. Unlike Any Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's departure from New York, his memories of Addison and Mark, and his first night with Meredith

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was raining the first time he drove to Seattle Grace Hospital. He parked and walked in, stopping at the reception desk to ask where he could find Richard when he heard his distinctive voice bellowing from above.

"Shep! Come on up here," Richard called from the landing.

Derek turned, bounded up the steps, hand outstretched and smiled broadly. "Richard, it's great to see you."

Richard ignored Derek's hand and gave him a quick hug and patted him on the back.

"We'll be happy to have you on board, Derek. You're starting at a good time; our new interns will begin in a couple of weeks, so you'll have a fresh batch of wet-behind-the-ears doctors to impress."

Derek smiled. "Is that how you saw me, way back then?"

"You and Addie, the whole lot of you," Richard responded.

Derek's smile faded. "Yeah. That was a long time ago, wasn't it?"

"All these years, I've tried getting you here - even talked about Chief of Surgery. To what do I owe your change of heart? And what's going on with you and Addison?"

Derek's face fell and he looked away quickly. "Richard, it's complicated. It's...Addie and I, things just...." Derek usually hid his emotions well, professionally, having learned to put on his neurosurgeon's mask. Not the literal one he used for surgery, but the other one; the figurative one he learned to wear when he greeted a new patient, talked to family members, before he knew what danger lurked ahead in the brain, in the nerves. But this, this he couldn't hide.

Surprisingly, Richard backed off and didn't pry. Surprising because Richard had mentored Derek years ago, and knew both of them well. "Let me show you around," he offered, changing the subject.

Derek and Richard walked around the hospital, touring surgical suites, scrub rooms, lounges, and the cafeteria. Even with his de facto tour guide, Derek became disoriented twice. It would be a challenge, he thought, finding his way around. He knew Columbia like the back of his hand, knew the shortcuts, every gurney-gouged wall, every faulty scrub room foot pedal. Now, he felt as though he knew nothing.

"Head of Neurosurgery. How does that sound to you, Derek?" Richard asked, smiling.

"Surreal," Derek replied, shaking his head.

"I'll have H.R. draw up a contract."

"Great, Richard. Thank you. I appreciate this," Derek said sincerely. "I'm going to take a few days. Look for someplace to live."

Richard nodded. "It'll be a couple of weeks before you can get your license. Until then, take some time, get to know the city. Clear your head. Call Addie. Talk to her."

Derek's pressed his lips together and shook his head, fighting back imminent tears. He would not cry here. "I'm not...I just can't, Richard. I can't."

"I know you think you can't, but you can."

"I can't," Derek asserted. "I'll call you - I'll keep in touch." He tapped Richard on the arm and walked away.

Derek did take time off. He spent a day or two dealing with his New York lawyer discussing the details of his practice, and another day or two freeing up some money so that he could think about buying a place to live.

Where to live?

Derek took a few days just to drive around, to get his bearings, but could find nothing that suited him. He decided to book a suite at the Extended Stay America closest to the hospital until his head was clear. After living in the city for so many years, he needed a change, even though Seattle was vastly different from Manhattan.

Before he knew it, his license was in order, and he started work at Seattle Grace. He found the work to be overwhelming at times - a departure from the schedule he'd had in New York - but once he started performing surgery again, he was, for the most part, comfortable.

On occasion, during those first days, Richard would be up in the gallery, observing Derek's work. Derek generally chose not to look up. It was easier that way.

_ "I saw you today," she commented idly as she poured some coffee in the lounge. "You were watching me. That hasn't happened in a while." _

_ "I was admiring your surgical skill," he responded tersely, taking a measured sip of his own cup. _

_ "Funny, Derek, it comes across so differently." _

_ He glared. "How so?" _

_ "I remember when we first started. Seeing you up there was...soothing. It made me feel special. Loved. I would see you, and I could see how much you loved me, that you were proud of me." She paused and allowed her anger to surface. "Nowadays, I look up and you're not there. Except for today. First time in a long time. You looked very...detached. Like you're just another...observer," she asserted, pursing her lips. "Nothing special, just one doctor watching another doctor." _

_ He stood up, making his way across the room. Ready for his escape from her wrath. "I've always watched you, Addie. Always." Derek shook his head, annoyed. "I can't even begin to understand what's eating at you." _

_ "You can't? Really. You're hot and cold - lately, just cold. And now, you pay more attention to me when I'm in surgery than when I'm at home," she argued. "That's pretty damned sad." _

_ Derek yanked the door open. "Maybe that's because you're in surgery more than you are at home," he replied, and threw his coffee cup noisily into the trash before he slammed the door behind him. _

Richard approached him when he was scrubbing out. "Your work is good, Derek. Better than I remembered. You settling in okay?"

Derek nodded his thanks. "I think so. I like the staff, the residents. I'm just a little...unsettled, yet. I have to find a place to live, and I really don't know where to start. All I know is I'm tired of the hotel."

"I hope you're not too tired," Richard said. "Tonight's our mixer, 8 o'clock. It's a chance for the interns to get to know each other, and staff, before they start."

"Hmm, I don't know." Derek looked away. "I've got some things to do; I need to get ready for my surgeries tomorrow. I'll try," he lied. "I'll try to be there."

"Try," Richard asserted, and walked out.

After talking to the patient's family and dictating his surgical notes, Derek sought refuge in an empty lounge. Derek sighed. A mixer. Where people got dressed up and were expected to be polite and chatty with each other. It was everything he didn't want to do tonight. Glancing out the window, he spied an appropriate escape hatch. There was a bar directly across the street. Rather than infect the shiny new doctors with his sadness and cynicism, he would drive over, have a drink and maybe a bite to eat, and stay away from the happy. There would be no mixer for him tonight. He went to the attendings' locker room to change, then walked to his car, feeling remorseful for lying to Richard, but mindful of his inability to be social in a group tonight.

It was busy inside when he arrived, but not crowded. He sat down at a small table near the wall, and was served almost immediately. A couple of guys were playing pool, and a few women were milling about. He downed his first drink much faster than he normally would. Should he wallow in his misery and get drunk? Getting drunk would probably not be a smart thing to do knowing he'd be on call tomorrow. That would be a first - on call and hung over. Pondering this, he looked up and saw her.

Honey-colored hair, long and slightly wavy. Black dress, with a slit up the side that showed just enough leg. He waited a while, waited to see if she was there with a date, or meeting someone, but she just sat there, looking down at her drink, smiling every once in a while at nothing and no one in particular. It took him some time to decide to go over and talk to her. It would be nice just talk to someone who didn't know him. Someone who didn't know Addison and Derek.

The bartender addressed her. "Straight tequila? Really? You are going to be sorry in the morning."

"I'm always sorry in the morning," he heard her say. "But tomorrow is my first day at work, so keep 'em coming." Her voice was sweet, he thought, and she sounded fun and a little mischievous.

Derek sauntered up, smiling. "Double scotch, single malt please." He sat next to her, and realized he had no idea what to say. "So, is this a good place to hang out?"

Glancing at him, she answered briefly, "I wouldn't know, never been here before."

Okay, at least she talked back. "Ah, you know what? I haven't either. First time here. I'm new in town. Never been to Seattle. New job so...." She'd stopped talking back. In fact, she wasn't even looking at him. "Ah, you're ignoring me."

"Um, trying to."

Derek smiled again, despite her cold shoulder. "You shouldn't ignore me."

"Why not?" she asked, skeptically.

"Because I'm someone you need to get to know to love."

"Really?" she said with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, yes," Derek flirted.

"So if I know you, I'll love you?"

"Oh, yes."

"You really like yourself, huh?" She looked amused.

"Just hidin' my pain." He laughed, and was happy to see her smile in response. "So what's your story?"

With a challenge in her eyes, she declared, "I don't have a story. I'm just a girl in a bar."

Tipping his glass, he replied, "I'm just a guy in a bar." He took another sip.

They sat in silence for a minute or so. She smiled a few times, and he nursed his second scotch of the evening. It gave him an excuse to sit there. He needed an excuse, because Derek didn't sit at bars with women who weren't Addison. Another first.

But, he remembered, they weren't Derek and Addison anymore.

Turning to her again, he asked, "Have you lived in Seattle long?"

She looked thoughtful before she answered, "I...I really haven't lived anywhere long. Let's just say I've lived here before."

"Hmm." He was definitely bombing in the conversation department, he knew. "So, you look nice. Pretty. Are you waiting for someone...a date?" he tried again.

Shaking her head, she replied, "I'm not waiting for anyone. I had a thing."

He looked puzzled. "A thing?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. "Just a thing."

"Ah, I could have had a thing, too, but I came here instead." Derek gazed at her lips, momentarily distracted, then looked up at her eyes and smiled. "And now I'm glad I did. Come here, I mean."

She laughed. "Why's that?"

"Well, because I like single malt scotch. And I like this bar. And you're here." He was trying his best to be charming.

She offered her glass to the bartender. "Another, please." He filled it, and she took it from the bar and raised her glass to Derek. "Here's to single malt scotch."

"But you're not drinking scotch," he protested as his glass met hers in a toast. "You're drinking tequila."

"You're right, I'm not drinking scotch," she declared defiantly, "but now you can tell me about it. About single malt scotch." Her face was alive now, animated and glowing.

Was she flirting? He thought that maybe she was. And he thought she might be unlike any other woman he'd known.

"Oh, well, I can tell you a lot," he began, happy to have a reason to continue to sit with her. "It's made from water and malted barley, no other grain. It can have yeast to ferment it. Um, the mash has to be processed, distilled and matured in Scotland, in oak casks for at least 3 years."

"You're just telling me about the scotch," she bantered, mocking him with her eyes. "You're not telling me why you like it."

"Why I like it?" he breathed, his finger tracing an imaginary line on his glass while he thought. "I like the aroma, the way it smells in the glass, in a proper glass. I like the taste. I like the sting, a little. The way it feels going down."

"You like the way it feels." She pondered this for a moment, and then looked at him sideways. "Do you wanna buy me a drink?"

Okay, she was definitely flirting.

"I'd love to," he replied with a grin. "Excuse me, another for the lady, please."

"Tequila it is," said the bartender and poured.

"Tequila," Derek repeated, shaking his head, feigning disapproval.

"Thanks," she said to either the bartender or him. He wasn't really sure. She downed this one swiftly, grimacing slightly before breaking into a smile. "I really like tequila."

"I'm Derek," he said, offering his hand.

She took it and held it, to his surprise. Then she stared at him, as though she were considering more than what to say next in their non-conversation conversation. Leaning over, moving close to his ear, she lingered, let go of his hand, and touched his arm. "Let's get out of here," she said quietly. "My place."

Derek processed this slowly. "Your place," he repeated, as if he needed clarification. Her place. Sex. She was offering sex. Right?

His heart began to pound; his mind was in a whirl. This was not a "Derek" thing to do, meeting a woman, going home with her. This was _so_ not him. Derek, the classic monogamist who hadn't looked twice at another woman since he met Addison. This was Mark - picking up and screwing strangers, beautiful women, without a care. Fucking. Bedding his wife with no remorse.

_ "Mark, Mark…fuck me. God, fuck me harder." _

He stood up, took her hand and helped her to her feet. She was petite. Smaller than she appeared on the stool. His eyes raked over her, taking in her breasts, her tiny waist, and once again he needed to remind himself to breathe.

"My place," she reiterated. "It's not far."

"Okay. That'd be...great." Derek felt unsettled, standing at the edge of the cliff with her. Wondering if he was really going to leap.

_ When Derek and Mark were around thirteen years old, Mark was all about snooping in Derek's sisters' rooms. Derek never liked it, but he didn't want Mark to think he was a wuss, so he went along with him despite the guilt. "Check this out!" Mark whispered. "I heard about this book." It was an old, dog-eared copy of "Fear of Flying." _

_ Derek never got to read it. Mark took it and never returned it. But when he was older, at Bowdoin as an undergrad, someone brought it up in an English composition class, and as he searched for the book, he came across a quote: _

_ "The zipless fuck is absolutely pure. It is free of ulterior motives. There is no power game. The man is not 'taking' and the woman is not 'giving.' No one is attempting to cuckold a husband or humiliate a wife. No one is trying to prove anything or get anything out of anyone. The zipless fuck is the purest thing there is. And it is rarer than the unicorn. And I have never had one." _

Her voice jolted him back to reality. "I'll be right back, I just need the ladies' room."

"Okay, I'll be here."

Derek paid the bill, added a hefty tip, then ran his hand through his hair and exhaled. He didn't cheat. Ever. And he didn't fuck. Not like Mark did, not in a careless, vacuous way. What Derek may have lacked in quantity, he more than made up for in quality. He'd had several serious relationships, but few one-night stands. Whenever he was with a woman, a woman he cared for, no matter how energetic or passionate it became, he never thought of it as fucking. This was just not a thing he would ever do. But that was before, he realized. He was now committed to no one; Addison broke her vows, and his marriage was over.

As he watched her return from the restroom, Derek knew with both great trepidation and building anticipation that he was going to sleep with her tonight.

"Did you drive here?" he asked.

"No, I took a cab."

He escorted her out the door, his hand lightly on her back. It was just a little chilly, crisp. He took her hand and guided her to his car. "I'm okay, I'm okay to drive," he assured her, even though she didn't appear concerned about his sobriety. He unlocked the car. "I'll drive you...us...I'll drive to your house."

He opened the door for her, but she didn't move. Looking up, she grinned and he found himself grinning back. Derek pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Softly at first, because he didn't know her. Because he was just a little intimidated by this. By her. She tasted like tequila and danger and intrigue. Her lips were soft, but her kiss was insistent and intoxicating. It made him feel bold. He kissed her again. And again. Her arms enveloped him, and he stroked her face, trying hard not to devour her. She smelled like a goddess and her hair was silky to his touch. His hands ventured down and rested on her hips, tiny and curvy and slim. Her tongue swirled against his, teasing him. He teased back, then instinctively pulled her body closer, and when she felt his erection against her, she moaned into his mouth.

He broke off their kiss reluctantly. "Let's go," Derek whispered, secretly happy that she looked like she still wanted more.

Despite the amount she'd had to drink, she moved gracefully into the car. Derek walked around to the driver's side and got in.

"Can you give me directions?" he asked as he buckled his seat belt, hoping she was lucid enough to guide him.

"It's easy," she answered him. "Just make a right here, and go straight for a few miles until you hit the freeway."

They rode together in silence. Derek was acutely aware of her movements, whether she reached down to rub her ankle, or back up to brush her hair away from her face. His breath hitched when she put her hand on his thigh and squeezed. He hoped she hadn't noticed.

"It’s this exit. Then make a left at this light," she told him, "and I'm the eighth on the right - on the far corner."

He found a parking spot easily, and stopped the car. Getting out, he glanced up at the dark house before walking around to her side to open her door for her. She accepted his outstretched hand, and they walked together up to her front door.

She struggled to find her keys, and then struggled even more with the lock. Derek took the keys from her hand. "Let me," he said. As the door opened and she moved to go in, he stopped her and gently nudged her face up to his with his thumb, searching her eyes for any sign of doubt.

She lifted her arms up and pulled his head close to kiss him again, but he stopped her, clearing his throat quietly. How drunk was this woman? "I don't want...I mean, I do want to, you know. I want to come in and I want to be with you tonight," he began, and then smiled. "But if you're too, you know, too...if you don't.... You can say no."

He could still say no.

Looking up at him quizzically, she assured him, "I'm not too...whatever." She smiled back and wrinkled her nose.

God, she was adorable. This was really going to happen. And then he realized. "I don't um...." When was the last time he'd used a condom? "I, uh, don't carry-"

"I got it. Whadda you wanna do first?" she asked in a sly, slurred voice as she pulled him through the doorway.

_ Hold you and pretend you're her. Pretend I never knew her, or him. _

Derek took a deep breath, then smiled.

Her eyes never left his face while she kicked one shoe, then the other, off her feet, away from them. She turned and walked from the foyer to the living room, which was dimly lit and he followed her, conscious that her house was in disarray. There were boxes and newspapers piled up, huge stacks of pillows, a barbecue grill in the living room, and post-it notes on walls. Her house, he realized, was sort of like his life. Messy and unfinished. Chaotic.

She faced him, moving close. Closer. "So, unwrap me," she murmured, lightly biting her lower lip. She was a tempting mixture of aggression and submission and he was spellbound.

He reached behind her and slowly unzipped her dress. It slipped down her shoulders, past her arms, and it puddled onto the floor. Seeing the hungry look in his eyes, the way he was watching her, she reached back to unhook her strapless bra.

"Not yet," he breathed, stilling her hands. "Don't rush."

"No rush," she agreed. She worked instead on unfastening the buttons of his shirt, one by one, then put her hand briefly on his chest as she studied him. She pulled his shirt off, letting it drift downward.

He was still staring and his eyes darkened as an intense craving for her continued to sweep over him. She was absolutely beautiful. They kissed again. Derek skimmed the tips of his fingers over her cleavage, and she moaned quietly, reflexively pushing her breasts toward him.

"Your hands," she whispered.

Derek bent down and kissed along her jaw line. "My hands?" he asked.

She smiled languidly, sighing. "Feel...they feel good."

"Your skin's soft. Smooth," he whispered as kissed her neck, her shoulder, and traveled downward, his lips softly gliding against her. He pulled her closer, his hands on her back, and lightly mouthed a nipple through the fabric of her bra, making her moan softly. Turning her around, he unhooked it, and tossed it onto the couch. He cupped her breasts from behind and as he kissed down her back, she bent over the couch, and spread her legs. God, he could lose himself in her, close his eyes and take her right now. She wriggled slightly, just enough to entice him to continue his journey.

His mouth was everywhere - tugging at her silky panties, roving between her thighs, tracing along the back of her knee, nipping his way down one slender calf, and back up the other. She faced him, sighing as he licked and sucked up her belly, circling her navel, to the soft underside of her breasts.

"Don't stop," she insisted. "Don't."

Derek lifted her up into his arms; her legs encircled his waist as he carried her to the other side of the couch. She leaned back slightly, anticipating his touch, and he lightly kissed her nipples, barely brushing them. Teasing. He drew one aching bud, then the other into his mouth with the kind of slow, sweet agony he loved to inflict. Gently biting. Tugging. Denying her, savoring her. She grabbed the back of his head, pulled him in, and the begging began: Suck me, harder, please, suck them, please.

He did. For the longest time, he did.

Derek positioned her onto the couch, knelt before her and spread her legs, running his fingertips up her smooth, cool thighs. She shivered and opened wider. Kissing his way up, he could feel her heat, was intensely aware of her femininity, of her scent. A fresh wave of desire hit his groin. He pulled her panties down, over her hips, along her legs, off.

Wider still.

"A taste," he whispered as he dipped his head. She was already engorged, pink and glistening. "Mmm…you're wet. Incredibly wet." He licked slowly, parting her, flicking her clit, making her whimper. Her reaction ignited him as he lavished his attention on her. For the first time in a long time, he felt empowered to be creative and imaginative. His lips nibbled, surrounded her and sucked, and as his tongue swept over her again and again, she began to groan and quiver. Derek slipped one finger, then two into her and she gripped them tightly, sighing, moving, protesting when he withdrew. So he did it again. Again. Giving her only a hint of what she wanted. She whined, frustrated, needing. Then, he gave her everything she wanted. Seconds, minutes, how long? His skillful attention as he pleasured her seemed to last forever. She tightened her leg muscles, the tiny nub in his mouth stiffened, she cried out and she was there, shaking, trembling.

The sheer force and duration of her climax excited and captivated him. Slowly, slowly, he eased his pressure as her orgasm subsided, his tongue withdrew, his hand, and finally, his lips.

It was the next moment that affected him. She lay motionless, sated. He rested his head against her thigh and stroked it lightly. Her hands cradled him and her long, slim fingers gently played with his hair. She was tender and sweet. Like a lover. As though they were lovers.

That simple, familiar gesture from this beautiful stranger broke what was left of his heart.

She slid down off the couch, onto the floor next to him, coaxed his face toward hers and kissed him deeply. "Um, I like this," she purred.

Fascinated, he stared at her and whispered, "Like what?"

"Me on your mouth."

She guided his fingers to his lips, silently daring him while she watched. Their eyes locked as he slowly sucked on them, then kissed her again.

Tugging on his pants, after making astoundingly quick work of his button fly, she cupped his erection and ran her hand up and down the length of it. "Ah," she breathed, "really nice surprise."

She teased at first. Her fingers ran lightly along his chest, his stomach, followed by the kisses she dropped here and there while making her way down his torso, hair trailing over him. He hissed with anticipation when she pressed her mouth onto his boxers and exhaled before she pulled them off. She made him wonder if she would. When she would.

Her mouth was tantalizingly close. She let her hair fall and sweep like fine strands of silk over his erection as her hand stroked his balls, pulling and kneading them lightly. He stretched out his hand to gather her hair so he could see her. She licked her lips, looking directly at him, and kissed the swollen head gently.

"Oh, yes," he implored. "Please."

She took him into her mouth and he fought the impulse to jerk his hips forward. He moaned loudly, loving the warmth and wetness of her mouth, of her tongue as she whirled around him, pumping him with her hand. His head fell back onto the couch and he closed his eyes when he began to breathe heavily. She sucked strongly, deeply, and he was rock hard as he felt the beginnings of a hasty climax deep within him.

"Wait, stop." He cupped her chin in his hand and smiled. "I just…don't wanna come yet. And if you keep that up, I will."

Her eyes were luminous, full of longing and her face was flushed. Reaching over to her purse, she took out a condom, opened the wrapper, and rolled it onto his erection. In a quiet, soft voice, she said, "I want you."

Looking down at her face, he watched her watching him with heavy-lidded eyes. She wanted him. With those three words from her, what he thought was just an unfamiliar act of rebellion became a means to assuage the hurt and emptiness from the betrayal that had suffocated him. She didn't know it, but tonight she was restoring his soul. He wanted her to want him. He wanted her to want no one else. For her to be just one woman on one night who wanted no one else but him. For this one night to last a little longer.

She lay down on the floor, pulling his body to hers. Derek pushed forward, entering her and she gasped quietly. He moaned reflexively at the feel of her and he thought he was in heaven. When she started to move underneath him, he knew he was.

She had no idea how he needed this...needed her.

"You feel...mmm," he hummed. Hot and wet. Soft, snug. Different. He closed his eyes, tucked his face into her neck, and inhaled. "Good," he whispered. "So good."

He moved inside of her, immersing himself. Derek played, he relished her, varying his pace, going so slowly that he teased and frustrated them both, then pumping so vigorously that they both gasped with exertion.

"Oh," she whispered, clutching at him. "Right there." Her hands caressed his chest, his shoulders, his neck and she wrapped her legs around him. "Deeper. Please, oh, please."

He drove into her then, taking every bit of her, making her pant and gasp. Grunting with satisfaction, pushing her legs back with his hands, watching his girth disappear inside her, he was astonished by his hunger for her, at how powerful she made him feel; he couldn't get enough. He did not want it to end. Cradling her with his arms, he eased onto his back, bringing her with him, her slim legs straddling him on either side.

She braced her hands behind her, on his thighs and rode him slowly, stretching and curling her body away from him. The sight of her thrilled him: breasts jutting out, skin shimmering in the scant light, hair everywhere. He stroked her nipples, tugging and squeezing and rolling them between his thumbs and fingers. Her dance atop him, unhurried and seductive, was beautiful, uninhibited. She ground against him with a lusty growl and when he put his thumb to her lips, she licked and sucked at it. He found her clit, and with skillful pressure, made slow circles. Slow, slow, slow. Unbearably slow. Her head fell back, her shoulders hunched and her eyes closed as she tensed around him.

"I can't," she whimpered desperately. "I want...I can't."

"You can. Come. I wanna watch you come again," he whispered roughly.

God, he wanted to watch her. Faster, faster, faster, touching just right. Pinching a sensitive nipple, blurring the line between pleasure and pain.

She opened her eyes wide, startled and slightly panicked, yet aroused, and when they fluttered closed she was there, a loud, heady, shivering mess. He took over for them and held onto her hips, pulling her down, driving deeply, mesmerized by her hair, her erect nipples and her face, suffused with hedonistic bliss. In the midst of her climax, compelled by something he could no longer control, he flipped her over, and plunged into her.

Derek was lost, becoming a nonsensical fusion of savage, tender, ravenous, lonely lust. Every thrust brought him closer, and he was overwhelmed by her softness, her arms, her moans, by the pulsing, strong, rhythmic waves deep inside her that surrounded him, that started the inevitable pull of a powerful climax. Only when she stopped shuddering and he knew she was finished did he erupt, bursting into her as a long, satisfied moan eased from his throat.

He didn't move. He couldn't leave the warmth of her body behind yet. She didn't seem to mind; her eyes were still closed, and one of her hands moved idly on his shoulder. He nuzzled her neck, smoothed her hair back from her face, and softly kissed her mouth. Fatigue was setting in, and he didn't know if he had the energy, or the will, to leave tonight.

"You were...that was...." Derek looked at her warmly and smiled.

Wordlessly, she smiled back at him, pushing a curl back into place with a gentle touch. It took a while for her to respond.

"Yeah...it was," she quietly agreed.

She pulled a pillow down off the couch, grabbed a soft, worn afghan, covered them both and fell asleep.

Derek stayed awake for a few minutes more, watching her in the moonlight, wondering how he got here - to Seattle, with this woman, alone, separated from Addison - and where he would be going from here.

He called into question everything he knew about his life. He knew that his new job would be challenging. That he would do his best to be a good teacher to the interns and residents. He knew that this night was extraordinary - a remarkable, incredible evening. An aberration. He knew that it was the first time in fifteen years that he made love to a woman who was not his girlfriend, his fiancée, his wife, Addison.

One part of him, a very small, quiet part, felt guilty, but he ignored that part as a vestige of the life he used to have. Now he knew his world in New York, his life with Addison had come to an end.

Because he knew there was no Derek and Addison. Not anymore.


End file.
